


I will follow you into the dark

by starcrossedlarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Caring, Couple, Cute, ED triggers, Fluff, Hate, Love, M/M, Self Harm Triggers, cuddly, harryandlouis, protective, triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starcrossedlarry/pseuds/starcrossedlarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Louis is very insecure about his glasses and his contact lenses don't arrive until a week later. Harry loves Louis in glasses; wether louis agrees with him or not is completely irrelevant. </p>
<p>Or the one where Louis breaks down in tears because of hate about how he looks and only to find out he has to wear glasses for an everlasting seven whole days. Seven. Harry comes home and finds him upset, then being the good, hearty person he is - Harry makes Louis feel better again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I will follow you into the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So it's me again and basically, I've wrote nothing. This isn't smut (no - not in the hope that I won't go to hell now) it's a cute little drabble of fluff; how cute. Emotions are lovely, but Larry emotions are lovely-er. This might be a little bit triggering, depending on who you are, but if you're reading this then I must tell you that you are beautiful. You are beautiful.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Twitter handle: @warmloulou
> 
> Title taken from Death Cab For Cutie's song: I'll Follow You Into The Dark.

Louis stumbles out of bed at a far-too-early nine o'clock, not to mention the other side of the cold mattress empty (cold in the absence of the younger boy Louis completely adores - or, Harry). Yawning, Louis slips into the fluffy white slippers he stole from one of the hotels in Canada, or was it Germany? He wasn't positive about that, but he was positive that they were extremely comfortable indeed.

He took the automatic route that lead him out of the bedroom, along the hall and down the stairs, turning right at the bottom and walking up two little steps, eventually reaching his destination - the kitchen. Walking over to the fridge, Louis found a note stuck to the door.

 

Hi Lou! Sorry I wasn't there when you woke up! :( Gone out to do the shopping, milk is in the fridge! Don't burn the bacon :)

Harry x

 

Louis couldn't help but smile at the latter sentence, Harry knew him so well. But, Louis figured that they've been living in each others' pockets for three-and-a-bit years now, so it's expected that Harry'll know Louis needs milk for his tea and that he will, without a doubt, end up burning his bacon. And, as if on queue, the sound of the letterbox clanking shut awakes Louis from his substantially cute daydream; forcing him to collect the post from where it lay in a pile on the brown door mat. The first letter was for him, the next for Harry and the last out of the three, an Indian Takeaway menu. Delightful, Louis thought sarcastically.

Opening the envelope with the Specsavers logo printed on the top right corner, Louis shook his head, disheartened at the words his brain had come to process. Seven days. Seven whole days. S-e-v-e-n. He had to wait a week, a whole WEEK, for his contacts to be ready. Meaning, he had to wear his glasses for a week. No. Absolutely not. Louis refused. Glasses; the plain black plastic frames that make his eyes feel like they're boxed in. Glasses that make him look appalling and make him feel physically sick to his stomach.

No, I'm not exaggerating, he thought. This is perfectly acceptable to be in such a state about black frames.

\--

Yes, Louis did eventually burn the bacon, but, on the bright side, at least he knew it was thoroughly cooked. Now, there's a positive. Louis sat at the pine wood table with his bacon, bread and tea (the tea being the only thing he successfully managed to make) flicking through his Twitter feed, scrolling aimlessly.| He clicked onto his mentions tab, knowing exactly what he'd be faced with. Usually a mix of things along the lines of, 'I love you', 'you're album is cool', 'please follow me' and very rarely 'you're a faggot'.

This time, it's different. Ever since Louis announced he signed for Doncaster Rovers, the sudden idolatry of him that appeared in front of his eyes - disappeared. Some of it was still there, but majority was drowned out by Rovers fans and hate accounts voicing their hatred towards him. 

\- Arsehole  
\- Faggot  
\- Puff  
\- Twat  
\- Gay bastard  
\- Ugly homosexual alien

The words repeatedly slammed into the sides of his skull - lining the thoughts of his brain. Because, after all, that's all Louis ever was. A wannabe, ugly, fat, arsehole of a gay coward. That's all he'll ever be.

Before he even realised, he was crying. Slow tear drops ran down his face, some over his thin, cracked lips, some dripping down from his chin onto his blue sweatpants. Louis never cried. He furiously rubbed both of his eyes, fists clenched in fury. He daren't look back on his phone to see the words that were painfully eating away at him, maliciously breaking him down and decomposing his mentality. The words were there; in black and white. The statements, as he preferred to call them. Statements, facts, anything that relates to being true. 

He took himself up to the bathroom next door to the spare bedroom and stripped, staring at himself dead in the mirror. The tummy; had to go. The thighs; had to go. The messy hair; had to go. His face; had to go. Again, the words 'ugly', 'fat', 'faggot', 'arsehole' pounded at him viciously. 

Broken by "Lou! Lou? Where are you, love? I'm back, it's just me!" Louis could do nothing but remain frozen staring straight into the mirror. He couldn't move. He was struggling to breathe as the words began to strangle him. "Louis, you in here, love?" Harry knocked on the door, twisting the knob and walking in on Louis.

"Lou?" Harry's eyebrows knitted together in sheer confusion. "Lou, you're crying, what's wrong?" 

He couldn't answer him. His own boyfriend, he couldn't even speak to him. The tears only fell down his cheeks harder and began flowing continuously. He was sobbing, staring back at himself in the mirror. His breath hitched every few seconds and Harry could only watch. Louis' back arched inwards and he began to curl, he lowered himself onto the floor and buried his tear-stained face into his forearms, shaking his head.

"No, Louis baby, hey, hey, calm down." Harry stepped over towards Louis, placing a hand on his shoulder, Louis flinching at the touch. "Hey, shh, it's just me. It's only Harry," his voice low and soft as he faced Louis, snaking his long arms around his body and pulling his head to his chest. "Can you hear that beat?" Harry whispered into Louis' hair. Louis nodded twice, inhailing the familiar scent of Harry. "That beat is for you," Harry continued, "what's wrong, my love?"

"Me." Louis replied, deadpan.

"You?"

"Ug-ugly, fa-t, faggot, c-coward." He choked out.

"What are you talking about, Louis?" 

"Myself," Louis whispered.

"You're beautiful, Louis William Tomlinson. You are so beautiful and I don't know where all this has came from, tell me, baby, go on," Harry encouraged.

"Fans,"

"Ours?"

"Rovers. Rovers fans, H-Harry,"

"No. Louis don't listen to them!" Harry proclaimed. "They're not worth it! Louis you can never beat yourself up like this about something they've said! Lou," Harry sighed to himself - a mere chuckle mixed into it. "Lou, you are so wonderful. At twenty one, you've got the world at your feet. You are in the biggest boyband in the word, you are signed for a bloody football team, you've got a loving family at home, you're touring the world, and, most of all, you've got me." 

"But, Harry, I'm not good enough," he sighed.

"Of course you are. You are mine and I am the only person you need to be good enough for and you are. You're everything and more to me! I love you and even if you weren't good enough, I'd still love you," Harry confessed. "Always."

"Really?"

"Yes, Louis, really," Harry smiled, turning Louis to face him. He wiped his thumb across Louis' face; swiping away the tears. Placing a light kiss on Louis' nose, Harry stood up. "I'm going to run a nice bath for us, okay? Bubbles, rose petals, candles, the lot!" Harry planned, "that good?"

"Very good."

And, in that moment, Harry knew he'd won as the crinkly-eyed, so-called 'Louis smile' crept onto the blue-eyed boys' face.


End file.
